LERIDA.
Picturesque country--Approaching Lerida--Rambling inn--Remarkable
duenna--Toothless and voiceless--Smiles upon H. C.--Nearly
expires--Civilised chef--A procession--Lerida Dragon--City of the
dead--Night study--Charging dead walls--A night encounter--Armed
demon--Wise people--Watchman proves an old friend--No
promotion--Locked out--Rousing the echoes--Night porter appears on
the scene--Also El Sereno--Apologetic and repentant--The charming
Rose--Porter congratulates himself--Cloudless morning--H. C.
confronted by the Dragon--In the hands of the Philistines--A Lerida
fine art--Boot-cleaner in Ordinary--Remarkable character--H. C.
hilarious--Steals a march.
No sooner had we left Manresa than the rain ceased, and though the sky
remained grey, the clouds lifted.
As far as Cervera the country we passed through was evidently
picturesque, and only wanted the contrast of sun and shade to make it
charming. Conspicuous amidst the landscape for many and many a long mile
was the wonderful mountain of Montserrat with its peaks and pinnacles,
about which the white mists still rolled and wrapped themselves. The
scenery was diversified by many a wide ravine, where tangled bushes grew
over the hard rock; many a fertile vale rich in fruit trees, pines,
olives, oak and cork trees, intermixed their various shades of green.
Beyond Cervera, the country was cold and barren and abounded in
rock-strewn plains, to which the grey skies gave a still more sad and
sombre tone. We approached Lerida when the shades of night were falling,
and could just discern its grand outlines rising out of the great plain.
These seemed to yield in interest only to Manresa, whilst the town
itself proved far more attractive.
We found the place sufficiently civilised to possess an omnibus, which
transported us bag and baggage to the hotel. The long straight
thoroughfare in which we found ourselves looked in the darkening night
like the fag end of a village, unfinished and unpaved; almost like the
street of some far away colonial settlement. It was wide and lined with
trees, and beyond the trees on one side, a row of large houses; amongst
them our inn; a rambling, cheerless sort of building, too new to be
peopled with ghosts or distinguished by artistic outlines. Anything more
opposite to the ghostly element could not be imagined. Still, in spite
of frightful drawbacks it was some degrees better than Manresa.
We were conducted by a curious but amiable duenna to a large lofty
sitting room with a bedroom opening on each side: evidently the state
apartments. The place looked empty and neglected, and our candles hardly
lighted the obscurity. The electric bells were all broken, and we soon
found that if we rang till doomsday no one appeared.
Our duenna was toothless and apparently voiceless, for when she opened
her capacious mouth and began to talk, no sound came forth. The mouth
worked up and down in absolute silence, and the effect was creepy and
peculiar. It almost felt as though a mummy had been galvanised into life
minus the voice. Her costume had nothing redeeming about it. An
impromptu turban placed over a shock head of hair, petticoats of the
shortest, revealing feet and ankles that would have supported a
substantial Dutch vrouw. We afterwards found she was the laundress of
the establishment, and this was the costume in which she presided at the
wash-tub. She smiled sweetly upon H. C. and her face looked like a huge,
amiable cavern. With an imagination full of the lovely face of that
young novice in Manresa, he shuddered, dropped into the furthest chair,
and begged us to complete the arrangements without him.
There was nothing to arrange, and the Dragon soon withdrew with her
cavernous smiles and voiceless words. Then from a distant corner we
heard an anxious murmur: "What about dinner?" H. C.. had not expired;
the Dragon had evidently not frightened away all earthly desires.
Fortunately dinner was forthcoming, though when we had finally settled
down and removed the stains of travel, and H. C. had recovered his
nerves, the night was growing apace. We plunged into wide passages, and
after half a dozen wrong turnings at length found ourselves in the
dining-room, large, lofty and well lighted. The chef sent up a civilised
bill of fare, and the landlord himself waited upon us; whilst under the
influence of fortifying dishes and refined wines the charms of the
Manresa novice faded into the background, and H. C. felt almost equal to
challenging the Lerida Dragon to single combat as a libel upon her sex.
We were conducted back to our rooms by quite a procession, including the
thin landlord and imposing landlady, headed by the Dragon bearing a
flambeau.
Once on our balcony, we found the night had changed for the better.
Clouds had disappeared, stars shone, the trees before us were rustling
gently in the wind, calmness and repose had fallen upon the world. It
was past ten o'clock; the place seemed still and deserted as a city of
the dead; not a sound broke the silence as we went forth for a
night-study of Lerida.
It was intensely dark. Here and there an oil lamp glimmered, making
darkness visible. Presently we found ourselves on the bridge, looking
down upon the waters of the river that runs so closely to the town as to
reflect its outlines. To-night it was too dark to reflect anything,
excepting here and there a faint track of light thrown by a distant
star. The surface was not disturbed by any sort of craft.
To the right rose the houses of the town, and above them faint and
shadowy against the night sky, the outlines of the wonderful old
cathedral, perched on its rock 300 feet above the town itself.
We tried to reach it, climbing and stumbling up the narrow ill-paved
thoroughfares, that seemed to wind and twist about like the contortions
of a snake. The darkness might be felt. There was not a solitary light
to guide our feet, and every now and then we found ourselves charging a
dead wall as Don Quixote charged the windmills.
Once H. C. plunged against the door of a low cottage, and before he
could turn round there rushed out a demon in light attire with a torrent
of hard words and a blunderbuss-sort of weapon. Fortunately for H. C. a
dog also rushed out at the moment between the man's legs, bringing him
to the ground, where he and his blunderbuss lay motionless. All the
dogs in the neighbourhood set up a howl and a bark, and the place was
fast turning to pandemonium.
We were evidently on dangerous ground, where strangers were not expected
and made welcome; doors opened above us and voices inquired who passed
that way so late. Our lives were in jeopardy amongst these wild
Catalonians, howbeit they have not the sword-and-dagger temperament of
the more impulsive Spaniards. We had fallen amongst thieves. Discretion
being the better part of valour, we glided back like phantoms, passing
safely through the ranks of the enemy, and found ourselves on the great
square which is the market-place, and where we breathed freely.
No one followed in pursuit. It seemed as though, their own territories
abandoned, they cared nothing what became of intruders. Presently the
dogs ceased to bark, silence once more fell upon the night. We hoped our
friend of the blunderbuss had not been seriously wounded, but under the
circumstances it was impossible to make anxious inquiries.
It was difficult to get even a faint impression of the town. Here and
there we caught a vision of promising arcades, and apparently ancient
outlines of houses and gabled roofs, but everything was in tenebrous
gloom. Hardly a single window reflected the faintest ray; the streets
were deserted. Only from a solitary cafe came forth, as we passed, a
small band of some half dozen men, who quietly went up a side street and
disappeared. It was only a little past eleven, but the people of Lerida
are wise and know nothing of midnight oil, wasting energies, and burning
the candle at both ends.
"We are doing no good," said H. C. whose head had been rather damaged by
coming in contact with doors and walls in the narrow lane. "I think it
would be as well to follow the example of these people and retire,
reserving our energies for to-morrow. In this darkness we might charge
another cottage door without a friendly dog to deliver us from a
murderous blunderbuss."
So we turned back in the long narrow street of which Lerida seemed
chiefly composed, and presently found ourselves in the broad hotel
avenue.
In the very centre of it was an old watchman with his staff and
lantern. He threw his light upon us as we approached, then gave a
"Buenas noches" and turned down the spear of his staff in friendly
token.
We thought we recognised both face and voice. Where had we met?
"You are late, gentlemen. It grows towards midnight. In a few minutes I
must call the hour and the weather. The people of Lerida are even
earlier than those of Burgos, where I was watchman until six months
ago."
Then the mystery was solved. This was the very old watchman who had
piloted us to the hotel the night we had lost ourselves in that most
uncomfortable of Spanish towns, with the worst of Spanish inns.
"Have you forgotten us?" we asked. "Do you not remember taking two
strangers through the streets of Burgos more than a year ago, and seeing
them safely to their door?"
The watchman put down his lantern deliberately and struck the ground
with his spear. "Is it possible, senor! Santa Maria! A plague upon
memory and eyesight! But the night is dark, and my lantern burns dim.
Indeed I remember it well. Can I ever forget your largesse on that
occasion? I have often wondered how you fared in Spain and whither you
wandered. Often wished I might meet you again."
"But what brings you here? Surely Burgos is more important than Lerida,
and you have progressed backwards. This hardly looks like promotion."
"Oh, senor, there is no promotion for us poor watchmen. One town is much
as another. I earn as much in Lerida as I did in Burgos, and the saints
know either pays little enough."
"Were you, then, sent here for any special reason?"
"A reason of my own, senor. My wife's old parents live here and she
wanted to be near them; so I petitioned to come here and it was granted.
On the whole I am better off than in Burgos."
After some further conversations, and with a substantial remembrance for
auld lang syne, we left the old watchman and turned for our hotel.
We soon felt almost as lost as in that past time at Burgos. The houses
were all exactly alike. Every light was out, every door closed. There
was no especial lamp to indicate which was the inn, and we could
discover neither sign nor name. At last in the darkness we managed to
trace on a lamp, in small characters, the words _Fonda de Espana_. The
great door beneath was shut, like every other door; but there was a
ponderous knocker, to which we directed our energies.
It was all in vain, for no one responded. Knock after knock brought
forth no result. The echoes we roused in the avenue were enough to wake
the dead. Our watchman had gone to the far end, and by the gleam of his
lamp we saw him turn and hasten. The habitable part of the inn was
upstairs, a league of passages separated it from the outer door. If
everyone was in bed and asleep, we might knock away until daybreak.
We were growing concerned, when just as our old friend the watchman
arrived upon the scene, up rushed another functionary in breathless
agitation: the night porter of the hotel, and he carried great keys in
his hand.
"A thousand pardons, gentlemen," he began, as far as want of breath
would allow him. "I did not know any one was out and went for a short
walk just to breathe the midnight air and contemplate the stars. I heard
you knocking when quite a mile away. You have indeed the strength of
Hercules. And there is also something peculiar in this knocker. You may
hear it all over the town, but cannot hear it in the hotel unless you
are in the porter's lodge. It has been said the house is bewitched, and
I think it; for once, when the Bishop breakfasted here, as soon as he
entered the doors a loud report was heard and the place trembled, just
as if some evil spirit were frightened and had departed in a flash of
lightning. If you only knew how I ran when I heard the knocker, you
would pity me."
"I guessed what was up," said our watchman, "but waited, thinking you
would be sure to arrive. Contemplating the stars with you, Juan, means
taking an extra glass or two at your favourite bodega. You are too fond
of leaving your post, and one of these days your post will leave you."
[Illustration: ARCADES: LERIDA]
This we thought highly probable, but the porter merely shrugged his
shoulders, intimating that if he lost one place another would turn
up. He applied one of the great keys to the lock, and the great door
rolled open.
We passed into a dark vaulted passage which rather reminded us of the
gloomy entrance to the Hospederia at Montserrat. Upstairs every one had
gone to bed, and they had not even left us a light. But for the night
porter we might have sat all night upon chairs. When the candles threw
out a faint illumination, H. C. looked round shudderingly as though he
expected to see the Dragon lurking in some corner.
We had found out that this extraordinary creature rejoiced in the
charming name of _Rose_, and mentioned the name aloud.
"Rose," said the night porter, "that is my wife. She is not a beauty,
senor, but she can't scold--she has no voice. When I see other
good-looking wives rating their husbands I say to myself, 'Ah ha, my
fine fellow! after all beauty is only skin-deep. I wouldn't exchange my
peace of mind for all your handsome wives put together.' I married her
because she had no voice and also earns good wages. But though she is
voiceless by day, she snores by night, and really becomes quite musical.
It is a singular contradiction, but nature is freaky."
He marshalled us to our rooms, a candle in each hand, striding along
with great dignity and evidently thinking that he was the life and soul
of the establishment. Putting the candles on the sitting-room table, he
backed towards the door, made a low bow, once more apologised for being
absent without leave and keeping us beating a midnight tattoo, and
begged as a favour that we would not mention the circumstance to the
landlord.
This we readily promised, and as it was utterly impossible to maintain
any sort of gravity on the occasion, the night porter, wishing us
refreshing slumbers, departed in great peace of mind--probably to resume
his devotions at the untimely bodega. We heard his receding footsteps,
and the house sank into repose.
The next morning there was not a cloud in the sky. Our study in grey had
given place to more positive tones. H. C.'s rainy season had been a pure
effort of the imagination. Sebastien was right after all, and in sheer
gratitude we sat down and wrote an epistle to his master that would have
moved a heart of stone. We represented in glowing colours the happiness
of the young pair that a word from him could make or mar; enlarged upon
the moral question of conferring pleasure where it was possible, and
wound up with a rash assertion, almost an undertaking, that Sebastien
would prove a tower of strength to the well-being of the hotel. The
result has been recorded.
We rose early. With that glorious sun shining, who could waste moments
in sleep? Presently we heard a sort of alarmed shout from H. C., and on
going into the sitting-room, and asking how he had slept, found him
pale, agitated, and confronted by the Dragon.
She looked if anything more terrible than last night. Her cavernous
mouth was wide open, but no sound came forth, though her capacious jaws
moved up and down and her eyes rolled in a fine frenzy. Her sleeves were
tucked up above the elbow, revealing a muscular arm that would not have
disgraced a prize-fighter. She was evidently primed for another field
day at the wash-tub. When we went in she was smiling sweetly upon H. C.
"What does it all mean?" we asked. "Surely you have not been offering to
elope with the Dragon?"
"I simply want my boots," said H. C. unromantically. "I rang away at the
bell just as we knocked at the door last night, and with the same
result. The place _must_ be bewitched. Then I opened the door and
clapped my hands, and the Dragon suddenly sprang out upon me from a dark
cupboard close by, right into my very arms. I nearly had a fit of
convulsions. And now when I ask for my boots all she does is to mouth
and shake her head. What's to be done? Is it a plot to keep us here?
Have we fallen into the hands of the Philistines?"
Being in a more advanced stage of toilet than H. C., we marched forth in
search of the landlord on what we hoped would not prove a bootless
errand. He was in his counting-house counting out his money--and
arranging his dinners. On making anxious inquiries we discovered that in
Lerida boot-cleaning was considered one of the fine arts. There was a
Boot-cleaner in Ordinary to the town, who took the inns in turn and was
paid according to his work. People had to wait his pleasure. That
morning he had not yet arrived; we had risen early.
Fortunately he appeared at the moment: an old, grey-bearded man with a
fine presence, who looked almost past boot-cleaning or any other
occupation. We found him quite above his humble employment. He was a
Frenchman by birth, but had lived in Spain for nearly seventy years--was
now verging on ninety, and his old wife, he told us, was eighty-seven,
and two years ago had gone blind. He had not forgotten his native
language, which he still spoke very purely. In his last days he was
supporting himself and his old wife by cleaning boots. It was the custom
of the town. The hotels would do anything for you but clean boots. As
far as he was concerned he just managed to keep the wolf from the door,
and that after all was all they wanted.
He went off to his task, and returning to H. C. we found a change had
come over the spirit of his dream. He sat hilarious and comforted before
an empty tray of rolls and coffee, our own share as well as his having
disappeared, whilst the Dragon had departed to adorn other realms.
In due time the old man arrived with his boots, was duly paid for his
work, and we presently found ourselves under the blue skies of Lerida.